Of diligent students
by Reana-chan
Summary: Dwarves always preferred to act in complete opposite of Elves, especially after Erebor fell and Thranduil turned his back on the survivors. And then Fell Winter happened...


It should be noted that in their hatred of Elves the Dwarrowkind were adamant in acting in complete opposite to them. So when the news came that what was later called the Fell Winter has been ravaging Shire along with wolves and an odd Orc or warg that managed to pass through thin spread lines of Rangers… Well, no one argued when Thorin refused – and quite vocally – to act like Thranduil and decided to send help to the soft beings who were ones of the not that big number that hired their wandering Smiths without reservations. Even if that help was nothing more than a small party of warriors and some rations so they won't be a burden instead of aid.

From what he remembered of gentle creatures, Thorin wasn't surprised by the lost expressions and eyes dark with grief. What he _didn't_ expect was the lighthaired youngling with eyes haunted but bright with inner fire to try and repeat his moves from when he practiced with his sword. Thorin was furious, because with how much the youngling erred, he could've badly hurt himself if he was practicing with a blade and not a stick. As it was, there was a fair number of bruises on his pale skin. And that not counting the fact that the foolish child actually hid himself, thus making himself an easy target. Still, Thorin's anger faded as he learned that the youngling was the only unlucky one to have lost both parents to that cursed winter. And so the exiled king took it upon himself to teach the lad. Until Dwalin (for of course his friend followed him) saw them and took the youngling away, muttering that he'll teach him the _right_ way because obviously Thorin himself knew nothing of the true art of battle. _Obviously_. But soon it was Thorin's turn to laugh, because then the other younglings came, and he saw even some of the adult Hobbits watch, despite their grumbling.

(They never asked names of younglings, for while they did what they could, they couldn't save everyone. Death of a child was hard enough without adding the burden of knowing that child. They learned that lesson long before that winter.)

* * *

Eventually, the time came when their rations were slowly falling to the levels that they would only hold them through the way back to Ered Luin, and even that only barely. Thankfully, by then the Rangers finally managed to take control of the situation and sent a party of their own, with some warriors and proviant to protect and feed the Hobbits until the larger amount of both could get to Shire. So Thorin and his warriors swept as much of surrounding area as they could, and turned their feet back to Ered Luin, leaving warm gratitude and a fiercely determined youngling behind.

(The Rangers felt too much guilt for not being enough to question the not so warm welcome they received.

Thorin's party had too many problems ahead of them as it is to think much of their young – _and very_ _diligent_ – one-time students much.

Soon all of Arda was quite sure that the halflings led such a comfortable life solely due to Rangers' protection.)

* * *

Bilbo Baggins was a respectable hobbit. He had his duties, such as those of a Baggins and a gentlehobbit, and they kept him busy. He had no time for silly things like _adventures_. And just what _exactly_ did Gandalf do to his _door_?! Bebother that wizard, this smial was his father's wedding gift to his mother!

But then, just an hour or two after the wizard's visit, Falco reported that _Dwarves_ were seen leaving Bree in the direction of Shire. So _that's_ what Gandalf was talking about.

 _Well,_ thought Bilbo as he browsed the market for a few things he lacked for the supper he was planning, _it is about time Drogo learned some independency, I suppose._

And really, if Gandalf was confused at the strange mix of ease in Dwalin's posture and vicious amusement in his eyes as they waited for the final member of the Company to arrive, it was the wizard's own fault for not visiting more often.

And Bilbo, well…

As a certain birdsong sounded through his smial's window, signaling that the last dwarf will be knocking on his door soon, Bilbo lit his pipe and took a breath of Old Toby, hiding his smirk in the smoke.

Bilbo Baggins was a _very_ respectable hobbit indeed.


End file.
